Whenever David had to be at Hyde St. Pier, he'd go there by cable car instead of taxi, not in spite of the fact that it took him longer to get to his destination, but because of it. And to make matters worse, rather than taking the Hyde/Powell line, which was the most direct route, he'd take the Market line up to the busy wharves, and spend the whole ride staring out at the bay so he could watch the boats and the seagulls and daydream, or admire Mount Tamalpais or Alcatraz island near the end of his trip. He didn't mind that the cable cars themselves were loud and deteriorating relics from half a century ago. This was an uncommon feat of abandon. These days, the tortured, grinding wails of a car stopping made every single occurrence sound like a proper miracle, so proper that on this particular ride whenever the operator pulled the handbrake with one hand he would clench a crucifix held in the other and hold perfectly still until the car came to a complete stop. For the tourists on the cable car this gave the experience a thrilling quality, and whenever there was a lurch they'd look at each other with wide eyed amusement and laugh. But it was no joke for the Muni, and there was a reliable rumor that Feinstein herself wanted the whole thing shut down for repairs and an inspection after a routine publicity event on the cars with another mayor had to be cut short when he cried, "Get me off this fucking thing or I'll jump off." For David, though, the danger was simply of no concern to him at all and he was happy just to watch the gulls gliding, sometimes suspended on a gale, moving up and down but seemingly never forward or back. A cloud rolled harmlessly up above. Someone on a boat accidentally tripped and catapulted into the water. David grinned.
The man on his right nudged his arm frantically. "Did you see that? Over there! That guy just fell right off. Look, his friends are helping now."
David gave his best "wow" and turned his head away. He wasn't antisocial, but he didn't like talking to the tourists, and he especially didn't like them knowing that he was a local, so if the subject ever came up he pretended that he was from Reno, which was small and remote enough that he wouldn't have to deal with the coincidence of someone else being from there, too. Since he didn't have to do that right now he went back to letting the clouds amuse him. He heard some sea lions in the distance.
When the cable car finally turned and the sky went out of view David knew he was on Jones and solemnly disembarked at the stop. He walked up Jones, then Jefferson, and finally when he saw the stout wooden masts of the Balclutha he turned right onto Hyde and walked up to the entrance of the small pier. David only somewhat understood why Emily liked this pier so much and insisted on meeting him here so often. He knew she liked seeing this old ship, and the historicity of the pier they stood on. David liked it, too, but only in the same way that everyone likes anything, just for a moment. Although if he thought about it for a little while, he could get himself to feel a bit of awe that the wooden vessel had lasted so long. Even with the regular maintenance it received, it was inconceivable to him how the whole thing didn't just fall apart decades ago. He felt the same way about the wooden pier he was standing on, but took it for granted, just like everyone else did, that the planks weren't going to give out from under him at any second.
To his surprise, Emily was not waiting for him on the pier, or anywhere near it, or anywhere in sight at all, like she usually would. He was normally late, on account of the cable car, which always gave her more than enough time to show up before he did, and he found himself annoyed that he would have to wait for her after having spent well over an hour just getting there. He also knew that they would be getting dinner somewhere nearby and he didn't want to eat too late into the evening. Suddenly he heard a loud squawk by his ear and ducked to the other side in fright as a seagull careened right by his head, straight into the side of the Balclutha with a morbid thud, and fell into the water, where it floated half submerged and lifeless.
